1point5kidsandaruger | I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

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I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

[The lab at the NTS gives Steve the crawls, no matter how many times he ends up there. Maybe it's the wasteland backing the place, the radiation warning signs or the huge pits where gamma-based explosive have ripped chunks out of the earth. Maybe it's the way the self-contained facility circulates purified air until the entire place tastes stale. Regardless, when Howard says there's 'something interesting' there and that General Phillips has requested Captain America's presence at the base ASAP, Steve doesn't exactly have a choice but to go.

The surroundings are still unsettling. The air still tastes stale. But there's a wildness to the place that Steve's never seen before. Scientists rushing back and forth, holding conversations that are at once hushed and excited. He almost has to pry one away from her clipboard in order to find out where Phillips and Stark are waiting. "Requested SSR personnel are supposed to go to observation room three," she says, and by the time he manages to get directions there he's already looking forward to stepping back out into the Nevada heat.

What he doesn't expect when he gets to Observation Room Three is to see Peggy and a half-dozen higher ups whose names and faces he knows but whom he's never personally met. What he doesn't expect is to see a man restrained in the otherwise empty cleanroom on the other side of the glass. Steve's escort stays on the other side of the door when it gets shut. He drifts to Peggy's side, saluting the Phillips at the same time.]

General. Is... What is this?

[Phillips raises his eyebrows at Steve in a look the Captain knows too well by now.]

Funny.[Phillips gestures at the glass.]I was hoping you could tell me. Stark got Skull's toy box open - ripped a nice shiny hole in the wall of his lab and spiked radiation levels in the entire facility. And also gave us him.

[Steve moves to the glass, resisting the urge to press a hand against it and peer closer, like the prisoner is a new exhibit at the zoo.] I'm not sure I follow, sir.

Came through the hole, took out two scientists and five guards - and then things got interesting.

[Steve frowns, still watching the prisoner.] ...Sir?

He took one look at the uniforms and started demanding to see you.

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It's really fun constantly being under the eye of such a dangerous woman who doesn't at all trust him. It really makes Clint feel right at home, and eager to spend more time with these children. Except, wait, no. It's entirely the opposite. And though he's not much of an undercover spy, he's had the training, so on comes the smile and he tips his head to the girls.

"We'll be done quick, right? As long as you girls are helping me out." And he steps towards them, but waits for Steve before getting closer. He's cocky, not an idiot.

Steve wants to trust Clint. He really does. But this is his home, those are his girls, and that is his wife looking like if she could spit bullets Clint would already be dead.

He goes into the girls' room first, ushering them along. In part, it reflects the rest of the house - books, though a lot of them are children's books instead of textbooks, art, world maps on the walls. There's also a dollhouse that looks like it was built by hand, full of furniture and dolls made the same way. One of them has a teeny tiny carved machine gun.

There are a few more childish posters, educational-type things or enlarged covers of books. One of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe is pasted slightly crooked above the checkered bed that Rosalie throws herself onto. Sarah waits until the door is closed before she sits down on her own bed, fixes Clint with a beady look, and says, "Are you really from the future?"

"Uncle Howard can't have babies." Rosalie rolls onto her back. "That's weird."

Steve struggles very hard not to smile. "You two were supposed to be in the kitchen."

"We were in the kitchen," Sarah says, her expression serene.

Rosalie sits up. "Momma will be here soon. Are you really from the future?"

Soldier walk a certain way--they have a posture and gait defined by what they are. And spies are much the same way, except that their patterns are entirely different. Clint walks so that his feet don't make a sound, and he doesn't stand straight--he hunches as though he's ready to tuck and roll at any moment. When they enter the girls' room, he finds himself a corner, folds his hands behind his back, and observes.

And then they ask more questions and catch him off-guard yet again.

"Well, to be fair, I always just thought of it as the present." He's never been one to talk down to children, and duplicity isn't in his nature. So he answers honestly.

"This is the present," Sarah says. "You're here, right?"

"You're Susan." Rosalie tugs at her blankets and Steve goes over to pull them back and help her under the sheets. "You're like Susan in Narnia."

"He's Peter." Sarah climbs off her bed to fold her sheets and blankets back and climbs in, waiting on Steve to tuck her in properly.

"He's Susan. He has a bow." Rosalie puts both hands up to frame her mouth and hisses at Clint, "She's my favorite."

"He's a boy." Sarah looks from Rosalie to Clint and back like she's worried she might be falling out of the conversation. Steve sits down on her bed and brushes her hair back from her face, a reassuring little gesture.

"Girls. You can settle this in the morning, all right? Do you actually want to read, or do you want to talk to Agent Barton?" He's pretty much folded to the inevitable - his girls take after his wife, and they're going to find things out one way or another.

"What's the future like? Did Uncle Howard make cars that fly?"

"Are there very many women agents?"

"What's your favorite food?"

"Susa--" Clint almost chokes, but manages not to. Again, children's literature isn't in his normal register. So the names are just those to him, and having a bow in common doesn't endear Susan to him very much.

But then the questions roll in and he has no time to think, instead focusing everything on keeping up.

"Flying cars? No, not unless you count jets. Tony's got a suit though, it flies him around--"

At the mention of female agents, he smirks. "Sure. Our second-in-command is a woman named Hill, who's about as tough as they come. And my partner, her name is Natasha, she's the most notorious secret agent of all time. Most people call her the Black Widow."

His tone distinctly shifts when he mentions Natasha. It's warmer, almost wistful. And then he realizes that the longer he stays here, the more chance there is that he'll never see her again.

"Food?" Now, there's a safe topic. "Pizza, I guess. Or apples." He wonders if they're old enough to tell William Tell jokes.

"Black Widow," Sarah whispers, like she's trying out the name. "Mama is Agent Thirteen."

"He knows that, right? He's from the future." Rosalie pulls a book from her bedside table and starts paging through the pictures as she talks. "Has there ever been a girl Captain America?"

"There hasn't been any Captain America but papa. You heard what he said." Sarah settles a bit more under the blankets. "How famous is mama? As famous as the Black Widow?"

"He said they hadn't got daddy out, he didn't say there wasn't any other Captain Americas." Rosalie drapes the book over her face. "Why do secret agents want to be famous?"

Steve watches Clint through the barrage of questions, the way the man gentles at the mention of his partner.

No question about it: they're getting Agent Barton back to his own time, whatever it takes.

"Last questions, you two. One each."

Both girls go quiet, weighing out the most important things they want to know. Rosalie still has the book over her face.

Sarah scoops up a stuffed bear and holds it against her shoulder the way Peggy held Josephine. "Are you scared?"

Steve sighs. Sometimes he wishes - however briefly - that his children weren't quite as sharp or to the point. He's not going to tell Clint that he doesn't have to answer. It's up to him, one way or the other.

In a way, Clint is bolstered by their chatter. He’s good at operating in silence, but not fond of it. He prefers the mundane level of noise you get on a street corner or in a coffee shop; bits of conversation to listen to, the sounds of day-to-day life.

He probably could keep up with the barrage of questions, if he put his mind to it. It’s only slightly more intimidating than sitting at a table as Hill, Fury, and Sitwell shoot questions at him about a latest mission. But it’s been a long day, and even if he registers everything they’re saying he lets a few of those queries go unanswered as they’re swallowed by the next. Especially the ones about Peggy, because he doesn’t know what to say. You don’t just tell kids their parents aren’t together, in the future. That’s about as messed up as it gets.

Sarah’s last question, though… he doesn’t know what to say, at first. Of course there’s the initial inclination to deny, to say he isn’t scared of anything. But that’s not necessarily true. After a moment, however, Clint turns to Steve. When he speaks, he looks right at the other man.

“What do I have to be scared of? Captain America’s here.” His most trusted teammate, other than Natasha. The man who gave him a chance to redeem himself. Same Steve or not, Clint trusts him.

The girls go quiet again, Rosalie lifting her book away from her face to watch the two men along with her sister.

Steve straightens fractionally at Clint's words, meeting the agent's eyes steadily. Something clicks into place, an internal surety that he had with Bucky when they first met, with the Commandos during the four-day walk back to the camp after his first real mission. Barton believes in him. There's no reservation there, no duplicity, and Steve intends to earn that belief.

"Momma's coming," Rosalie says, setting her book aside and wriggling deeper under the covers, as though she's been settled there all along. "I get to ask mine in the morning."

Right on cue, Peggy comes into the room, cradling a deeply sleeping Josephine. Sarah and Rosalie fall silent instantly as their mother walks over to the youngest daughter's bed, tucking her in. She kisses Josephine atop the head, then walks over to Rosalie's bed.

Quietly, she says, "I see you didn't get any reading done," and then leans over to kiss Rosalie good night. Listening from outside the hall? Why, of course she was.

Rosalie smiles with over-the-top innocence, beaming at the kiss and leaning up to give one in return before burrowing back into the blankets. Sarah waits expectantly as Peggy moves over to repeat the goodnight process. As she leans over, Sarah whispers, "I love you, mama," and Peggy smiles softly.

"I love you, too," she whispers back.

Queue Clint the most uncomfortable he's ever been in his life. He stares at his feet as Peggy tucks the girls in, hands in his pockets. He should have known she'd be listening, and wonders if he would have said anything differently if he'd been actively thinking about that. But, no, he decides. He wouldn't lie to her any more than he would to Steve.

But he wastes no time in stepping out into the hallway, arms crossed over his chest as he tries to think. He's back in time, probably skipped through a couple dimensions, since this isn't his own world's past. He needs... Banner, or Stark, or someone who can explain and deal with this. This isn't a problem he can shoot until it goes away.

Steve is the first one out of the girls' room, leaving Peggy to have a moment with them while she can. It's hard on all of them, he knows, to have her gone so much - but the girls understand as best they can and Peggy is there whenever possible, and they all know, without a doubt, how much she loves her children.

He studies Clint, turning over the man's actions during the day, tying them to the declaration he made to Sarah. "Peggy will come around." Silence, for a moment. "And we'll get you back to your people. Somehow. Until then, you're welcome here."

Steve smiles a little. "The girls like you. They'll be even more insistent that you stay."

Clint rubs a hand over his face and tries to think of a way to respond.

"I don't blame her," he says of Peggy. "I'd probably react the same way." If he had kids, or a family, or any semblance of a life. Okay. So maybe he'd react the same way if someone threatened the Avengers. Or could have possibly at some point presented a threat to the Avengers. But still.

"If this was my time, I could hotwire a car, find a hotel, and forge myself papers. I could get out of here and disappear and make my own way. But... this isn't my time. I can't handle this myself."

So, Clint realizes, what he's saying is...

"...I think I'm stuck, unless I stay."

Steve scratches the back of his neck, trying to put himself in Clint's place, to wind his clock back decades into unfamiliar territory with people half-known and still unfamiliar.

He's not sure how the motion will be received, but he rests a hand on Clint's arm. "You don't have to make your own way, Agent Barton. You're not on your own here." A slightly crooked smile and a pat before he steps back. "But you're welcome to any of the liquor in the kitchen in the mean time. God knows someone should find a use for it other than Dugan."

Yes, that is mostly a joke, but just the same, Steve stays between Clint and the girls' bedroom door - this time as a barricade between Barton and Peggy, instead of Barton and the children.

She'd be lying if she didn't admit to half listening to her husband and Clint. Again. But her priority is the girls and their goodnights, and if it takes an extra midnight tonight, Peggy doesn't mind.

But finally she turns off the lamps, turns on the nightlight, and comes into the doorway, where she slides an arm around Steve's back, standing beside him. Their public displays of affection are still minimal, but without the girls to flicker in and out of conversation, Peggy wants to be near him. A small touch is enough.

She's still formulating a final assessment of the man, but Clint Barton? Is not a threat -- not in the kind of sense where she shoots to kill. He's proven that, and she respects that. She's not quite smiling, but her expression has lost most of its harshness.

"Howard will have to be informed. It's unlikely we'll get you home without him."

A pause. Because half listening or not, she still heard the whole exchange.

"But yes. You wouldn't be here if we planned on merely throwing you to the dogs."

She wouldn't have agreed to take him to her house in the first place without expecting something along the lines of helping him.

Edited 2012-09-03 07:52 (UTC)

He's about to open his mouth and say he's not much of a drinker--though he's considering making some significant exceptions--when Peggy reappears.

"I appreciate that... ma'am."

He shifts from one foot to another, considering this. "Howard. That's Howard Stark, right?"

Who, if memory serves, is about as smart as his son will be. That's a reassuring thought.

"It is. You said his... child. Is a superhero." Because the idea of Howard Stark having a kid still boggles Steve's mind a little bit. That's clear enough in his tone. "Stark could probably outfit himself for the front lines if he felt so inclined, but I think he likes the lab too much."

Steve gestures back toward the living room. "How much can you tell us about the Avengers?"

Peggy leads them into the living room, sliding her hand from Steve's back into his own hand, locking only their fingers. The tea is still set on the table, but it's bound to be cold by now. She once again sits on the couch, keeping her hand in Steve's to pull him down next to her.

Howard with a child is baffling to her, too. The man's far too involved with his work, and she can't even begin to fathom him settling down long enough. "Give the man technology, and he's lost to it for days."

But she has nothing else to add, her questions and thoughts hanging in the air vocalized by Steve. Because Avengers.

Clint finds his way to a wall and crosses his arms over his chest. It's a familiar position, a way he thinks. And he's not really sure what to tell them. He decides the truth is a safe enough bet.

"A little while ago, New York suffered from an alien invasion. It wasn't the kind of thing SHIELD was ready to tackle. So our director called in the big guns. Tony Stark, well, he goes by the name Iron Man. He uses his technology to make himself unstoppable. Then there's Thor, who's... well, he's Thor. He's a god."

Clint pauses, swallows. "Dr. Banner is a scientist, kinda like Stark. But he's also got a Jekyll and Hyde thing going on. Me and my partner, the Black Widow, we handle the things those guys are too big to notice. And then there's you, Cap."

He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. "Those are the Avengers. We haven't faced anything that big since we stopped the aliens, but we exist. We're a team... sometimes."

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I seem to be what I'm not, you see. I'm wearing my heart like a crown.

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